Page 49 of Princess Avenged

Shrugging, I shake my head. “There are a couple of texts I’d like to study again. And some I have yet to open.” I’d rather spend every single moment holding on to Ana, talking, making love, but I would also hate to miss any detail that might help protect her.

“I’ll go with you,” she says. “I can help.”

“I can help too,” Crusher adds.

Ana tenses at my side. She’s clearly not ready to forgive him.

“Why don’t you stay here until Flame wakes,” I tell Crusher quickly. “You can let him know the travel plans.”

Crusher nods sharply, and Ana and I leave the room.

“I shouldn’t have snapped at him like that,” she says when we’re a good distance away.

I look down into her worried eyes as she looks up into mine. “You can’t help what you’re feeling.”

She sighs. “I’m not regretting my emotions, per se. I know I can’t control what I’m feeling, but I can control how I react to them.”

I squeeze her tiny hand. She’s so wise. Since knowing her, I’ve fully recognized my full suite of emotions for the first time, and I hope to learn much more from her. “Do you think you can ever forgive Crusher?”

“I have forgiven him,” she says.

I stop to make sure I heard her correctly. “Really?”

She brushes her free hand down the bodice of her dress. “I understand why Crusher lied to me about Timur. And why the rest of you kept his secret, but the entire thing…” she glances down “…it made me see Crusher in a different light. Or perhaps it helped me to see him more clearly. I understand him better now, and I’m not sure if…” Her voice trails off as she starts walking again. “I can be civil with Crusher. I know how much he means to you.”

We turn into a wide corridor with a vaulted ceiling and more marble than I knew existed on the entire planet. It’s mind boggling to imagine the work that went into this palace, or the money they must have spent. I’m no expert on art or design, and I don’t have an eye for it like Flame does, but even I recognize the beauty in this place. Astounding beauty that doesn’t begin to outshine the woman walking next to me. Not in my eyes.

My heart swells with gratitude and love.

“How much more research do you need to do?” she asks.

“Not a lot.” Although that’s not a hundred percent true. If she weren’t coming with me, I’d probably spend every minute we have left at the palace pouring over texts, but my priorities have shifted.

Protecting Ana, helping Phil—those things are still at the very top of my list—but I no longer feel the need to uncover every last stone to dig for details, or to review all the stones I’ve already turned. I’m confident that Zuben and I have found the most relevant facts about this demon and about the other realms. All the details recorded by vampires and humans, anyway. To learn more, we need to talk to the witches, and that’s not going to happen here. In fact, I can’t make that happen. Ana’s friend Ember is our entry point into that world.

“Were you always so interested in books and learning?” Ana looks up at me with so much genuine interest my chest expands. She’s not just making small talk. She wants to know.

“Was research something your maker pushed you toward,” she asks. “Like your knife skills?”

I consider her question, loving how she refuses to call our maker The Master, like we do. I resolve to follow her lead. “I don’t think he pushed me toward books,” I answer. “Reading, learning, they were just things I took too. From the day I learned to read, I couldn’t get enough of it. And to his credit, The Master—our maker—while he didn’t exactly encourage it, he didn’t try to stop me.” He didn’t punish me for reading like he punished us for so many other things.

We step into the final hallway that leads to the archives, and nerves scramble my guts. If I dive back into the texts, if I let Ana help, I won’t be able to avoid sharing certain details. I can’t avoid it forever. I know that. But I also wish I could shelter her from it all.

“Any time I asked for books,” I tell her, “our maker would get them for me. As long as I completed my training, he was happy for me to fill what little leisure time we had with reading.”

I let go of her hand to pull open one side of the massive archive doors. But instead of walking ahead of me, she takes my hand, and we walk through together.

“How did you learn to read so many languages?” she asks. “Did you have many tutors?”

I shrug. “Taught myself. Figured it out by reading multiple translations of the same texts.”

“That’s amazing.” The lights from above flash in her chestnut brown eyes, as if the illumination is shining within her. Perhaps it is.

“I struggled with languages,” she says. “As a child, I only mastered Russian, French, and a bit of English. Then of course I learned Romanian, once I moved here, and picked up bits of a few others. And improved my English, of course.”

“That doesn’t sound like struggling to me.” I wink. “Many people speak only one language.”

“Even vampires?” she asks as if the idea is incredible to her.

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